


you're somebody else (only it ain't on the surface)

by kinselllas



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 04:11:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14708834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinselllas/pseuds/kinselllas
Summary: Jughead pulls his fingers through Cheryl’s long hair and stares up at the ceiling. This is the calmest they’ve ever been together, the most quiet. He doesn’t want to disrupt it, but he’s Jughead, so he has to open his mouth and-“I never noticed before,” he says, voice soft, “you’re actually really-““Don’t be a sap.”





	you're somebody else (only it ain't on the surface)

**Author's Note:**

> “people are like lice - they get under your skin and bury themselves there. you scratch and scratch until the blood comes, but you can't get permanently deloused. ”  
> -henry miller, tropic of cancer
> 
>  
> 
> Post 1x12

The first time it happens, they’re drunk. Jughead finds her with her face resting on the edge of the bathtub, red hair pulled back loosely. It’s a little tragic, a little sad, and the tiniest bit amusing. He’s only in the bathroom to fetch Betty some water. He should really leave it at that.  
Maybe it’s sympathy, but it’s probably pity- he still feels awfully bad about her brother- he just can’t leave it at that.

  
“Cheryl,” he clears his throat. Her previous slap still echoes in his head. “Are you alright?”

  
“Get away from me, Jones.”

  
He almost smiles at the surname. If he didn’t know any better, there’s the slightest bit of affection in her voice. It’s enough to make him sit down on the toilet seat and push a few strands of hair behind her ear. Her eyes are stained red, and he silently wonders where all of her friends are, Reggie and Josie and all the others that follow her around like loyal subjects.

  
“Stop being nice to me,” she spits, wiping her tears away. “It’s annoying.”

  
Jughead does smile at that, finds that he can’t say anything when she grabs a handful of his shirt and pulls him down to meet her mouth. Finds that once they start, he really doesn’t want to stop. She flicks the hat off of his head and sinks her teeth into his bottom lip. There’s something about it, twisted and thrilling, he has to rip away to catch his breath. Cheryl’s wearing a smirk, lips flushed. Her thumb swipes at the lipgloss around his mouth.

“Get lost, hobo.”

 

Being with Cheryl is difficult in a way that being with Betty isn’t.  
Betty is soft and gentle, with a caress here and a light squeeze there. Cheryl is rough. She pushes and pulls, and rips at him like she’s trying to draw blood. He has a lock of red hair in his mouth and he can’t quite figure out how he got here. His hand slips up her skirt and she smacks it away. She always does.

“This is getting boring,” she sighs, his mouth is racing over her jaw and he has to halt. Because really, even from Cheryl, it stings.

“Maybe,” he mumbles, letting his fingers toy with the hem of her dress, “If you’d let me touch you…”

It’s an interesting game, the way she’ll let his hand hover centimeters from her skin before yanking away from him with a smile. He hasn’t figured out the objective, but he’s sure his own frustration is a big part of it. More and more he has to question why he’s still here, and what he has to gain. He has a perfectly beautiful girlfriend that loves him and he’s willing to risk that for hands-free foreplay with Cheryl Blossom.

It’s only fitting, that Jughead would fall for the villain of his own story. A tiny part of him would like her to slap him again.

Later, Cheryl straddles his lap and ginger hair falls around his face like a curtain. He’s lying on his back, hands still at his sides, and his hips buck when Cheryl’s tongue flicks at his ear. It’s not fair, the amount of control she has, and the little restraint he can muster.  
He should just tell her to fuck off and be done with it.  
Cheryl sits up and runs a few fingers through her hair. From this angle, he feels like he’s in a position of worship. His hands come up to grip her hips, and he earns a small, surprised gasp from her mouth. She doesn’t smack him away this time.

He should really consult Veronica about where she attends confession.

 

Jughead pulls his fingers through Cheryl’s long hair and stares up at the ceiling. This is the calmest they’ve ever been together, the most quiet. He doesn’t want to disrupt it, but he’s Jughead, so he has to open his mouth and-

“I never noticed before,” he says, voice soft, “you’re actually really-“  
“Don’t be a sap.”

 

Cheryl, he learns, doesn’t like to reveal much. The first time he extracts a moan from her mouth, it’s followed by a harsh swallow. Her hand finds his throat and she pushes him down against the mattress. He’s sure she could leave a bruise, if she wanted to. Jughead is already hard.  
“Shut up,” she mutters, biting at his smug grin.

Cheryl’s sheets are silk, and his fingers slip over the fabric when she licks a trail up his shaft. She takes him in her mouth and Jughead hisses a breath, aching to thrust against her tongue. With a fist of her hair, a groan escapes him when he hits the back of her throat.

 

“Earth to Jug,” Betty waves a hand in his face and he snaps back into focus.

His gaze had involuntarily traveled to long red hair, tied up in a black ribbon. His eyes flickered down her back, over her legs, and stared at her ass, before his devoted girlfriend interrupted his thoughts. Jughead needs help if Cheryl is distracting him when she’s not even trying to distract him.

It’s not until they’re at lunch, and Cheryl wedges herself between his body and Veronica’s, that he realizes what’s at stake. The brunette’s gaze flickers down to Cheryl’s fingers resting on his knee, and he bounces his leg to repel them, a reflex. Cheryl meets him with a glare and he’s sure he’s mirroring her expression. Veronica is still staring at him, but she seems to shake the thoughts out of her head and focuses on something else, too ridiculous to even fathom. Betty’s eyes are on her biology notes, but she glances up at the silence.

Jughead clears his throat and shoves a few fries in his mouth to avoid saying anything stupid.

 

He walks Cheryl to her car that afternoon and decides to end it right then and there.

“My life is sort of a mess as it is,” he shrugs, voice soft. “I really can’t have you adding to the chaos.”

The clouds are out today, he hasn’t seen the sun in hours. It looks like it’s going to rain. Cheryl stops in front of her car to roll her eyes at him and he knows if he’s not careful, he’ll end up a mangled pile of limbs in a puddle of motor oil.

She tilts her head, a smile. “Worried I’ll reveal our series of trysts to psycho Sandra Dee and-”

He cuts her off, “Can you not do that?”

Her eyes widen at the interruption. “Do what?”

“Can you not talk to me like Cheryl Blossom, Queen of the River Vixens?” He snaps, “Just be Cheryl, for like, two minutes.”

Cheryl scoffs, shaking her head.

“You knew who I was when we started this,” she says, “You don’t get to act like a kicked puppy now.”

Jughead laughs, angry and bitter.“We?” He fires back, shooting a finger in her direction. “You started this.”

“And you loved every second of it.”

Jughead opens his mouth, but ultimately swallows his response. He wants to grab her by the shoulders and give her a hard shake, tell her that she’s crazy. They’re two heads of the same snake, ready to bite at any moment. He scrubs a hand over his face and nods, an effort of surrender.

“You’re right,” he says, gently. “But not anymore.”

Jughead moves to walk away and Cheryl grabs him by the hand, yanking him back to her. She’s much stronger than he had realized. He hovers against her body and he can feel her seething in front of him. He exhales, and his gaze flickers down to her burgundy lipstick.

Jughead takes her face in his hands and kisses her, searing and breathless.

A quick farewell, like he’s shipping off to war.

If only-

 

But Veronica is standing by the tennis court when they part, and she uses her handkerchief to wipe away the smeared lipstick, giving him a tiny shake of her head. Jughead takes in her face, eyes cast down with disappointment.

“Jughead,” she says, quietly. “What did you do?”

 

Jughead thinks back to that first night, at the party.  
He really should’ve left her crying on the edge of that bathtub.

 

He has always known Cheryl to be cruel. He has always known her to be cruel, and he should’ve known what he was getting into by letting her into his bedroom, letting himself into her own. She’s so pretty, but she’s so mean. And she has a clear vendetta against Betty. Now she has a clear vendetta against him.

Jughead is standing at his locker and Betty is talking about Archie and Veronica’s upcoming show, and he needs to focus. But Cheryl is still seething, and as she saunters down the hallway, she stops to grab the lapel of his flannel, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. She lets the moment linger as silence surrounds them.

“Sorry, Jug,” she shrugs, meeting his eyes. “Old habits.”

Jughead freezes completely, moving his gaze from Betty to Archie and Veronica, even Kevin is glaring at him. He tries to move on as if nothing happened, but Betty is still staring at him. Jughead shifts his books around and meet’s Cheryl’s gaze over her shoulder. He doesn’t hate her. He hates himself for not hating her. She struts off and he’s left with four sets of eyes firing into his back.

“What is she talking about?” Betty asks, finally. “Old habits…”

“I don’t know,” he tries to shrug, but it’s too forced. Too stiff.

Veronica narrows her eyes, “Jughead…”

“It’s nothing,” he mumbles. His last ditch effort. “Let’s drop it.”

Archie moves his gaze to Veronica then, and she rolls her eyes. He knows she won’t say anything if he doesn’t, but expects him to say something all the same. Jughead feels flushed.

“It’s not nothing,” Betty urges, voice firmer. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I-“ he swallows, meeting Veronica’s eyes. She raises her eyebrows for him to continue.

He scrubs a hand over his face and sighs, “I fucked Cheryl.”

Betty’s eyes widen and he see the tears welling up, a few escaping to roll down her cheeks. She takes a deep, painful breath and buries her face to turn away from him. Veronica wraps her in an embrace.

Archie socks him in the stomach.

 

“Sort your shit out, Jug.” Archie tells him later, “Do whatever you need to do.”

Veronica is standing beside him with her arms crossed. Jughead feels more isolated than ever. A hermit life in his Southside trailer is looking better and better.

Archie’s voice lowers, “But stay the hell away from Betty.”

 

That night, he finds himself six beers deep and propped against Cheryl’s door. She swings it open and he nearly falls into the foyer. Cheryl steps out of the way and makes no effort to catch him- not that he expects her to. Her silk robe is cinched around her waist, hair tied back in a ponytail. All the make-up is stripped off her face, but she’s still glowing. Jughead swallows at the sight.

“What do you want?”

  
He almost almost rolls his eyes, because it is just like her to assume he’s only at her house because he wants something. Except that he does want something- and it’s her. He could shiver at the thought alone, but they’re definitely past that point. Cheryl is still staring at him, so he attempts to force a conversation.

  
“How-“ he starts- stops. Starts again, “How are you?”

  
It’s clear that Cheryl is already losing the little patience she had with him, and she glances up the stairs, looking for Penelope. Her fingers grip at his jacket and she yanks him through the living room, past the kitchen, and closes the porch door behind her.

  
“What do you want, Jughead?” She whispers, voice harsh.

  
He swallows again, leans forward to kiss her. He just wants it to be easy. If only this one thing in his life could be easy. Cheryl plants her hand on his chest and shoves him away.

  
“Stop it."

  
“You win,” he shrugs, nearly a slur. “My best friends hate me, Betty hates me, it’s over. I’m all yours.”

  
Cheryl snorts, and he feels how far removed she is from all of this- feels suddenly humiliated that he’s even standing in front of her right now. Her arms cross firmly over her chest and he resists the urge to reach out and touch her again.

  
“Look at you,” she says, and her eyes almost look a little sad. “A worthless drunk like your dad.”

  
It stings, sharp and biting and Jughead can’t catch himself before saying, “Better than a heartless psychopath like yours.”

  
Cheryl’s slap echoes in the buzzing silence of the night and his own hand comes up to soothe his face. Without thinking, he charges forward, crashing his mouth into hers roughly. Cheryl fights against him, elbows meeting his chest before she returns it, a sigh into his mouth. He shoves her up against the backdoor and revels in the tiny moan that escapes her lips.

  
“You need me,” Cheryl mumbles, against his mouth. “Say it.”

  
He sighs, “I need you,” and lets her legs wrap around his waist.

  
It’s hard to stay quiet after that.

 

Jughead takes Cheryl to the lake by Sunnyside and feels a little ridiculous about how hard he’s trying to impress her. At the picnic table he meets her warm gaze and stops trying to impress her at all. He has to believe that Cheryl is exactly where she wants to be. She wouldn’t be there if she didn’t. Her hands reach out to unwrap the salad containers that he had fetched from the nicest grocery store in Riverdale.

“Quite the spread, Jones” she says, approvingly.

“Only the best,” he nods, a wink in her direction. “Ms. Blossom.”

  
If you would’ve asked him a year ago, the last place Jughead thought he’d be is on a picnic date with Cheryl Blossom. And yet, sitting there with her and shoving a raspberry into her mouth, he can’t picture being anywhere else. He hasn’t quite been able to navigate Penelope yet, but Cheryl assures him that’s probably a good thing. He drags her away from her nightmare, and she relieves him of his own.

  
“This is nice,” she says, in her Cheryl voice, and he grows to appreciate it.

He says, “It is,” and leans forward to catch a drop of juice from her lips.

 


End file.
